


Under Eastern Stars

by alaulu



Category: Emelan - Tamora Pierce, Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Action/Adventure, Crossover, F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:15:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24804553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alaulu/pseuds/alaulu
Summary: “We’ve haven’t even arrived and you’re looking forward to leaving,” she teased. “Maybe you should enjoy travelling when nobody’s trying to kill or marry you for a change.”“That does seem nice,” Sandry acknowledged. “The Tortallans I've met certainly seem pleasant enough.”“There you go,” Daja said sensibly. “A summer and winter in a country nobody even knew existed until a few years ago, and then we’ll all go home. Nothing to worry about.”“And if there is,” Briar had come up to shore next to them, “the four of us will handle it. We always have.”Sandry looked between them and smiled.Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that, Tris thought irritably along their connection.___A journey to a new land.
Comments: 49
Kudos: 138





	1. Arrival

Lady Knight Keladry of Mindelan strained her eyes to catch a glimpse of the ship pulling into the harbour. A small trading skiff, it didn’t look to be up to a month’s long voyage across an endless ocean, but Numair had explained to her that the weather mages on board were among the finest in the world. The most powerful mage in Tortall, Numair had been one of Kel’s instructors during her training days at the palace where she had been the first girl in over a century to openly try for her knight’s shield. It was thanks to him, in no small part, that communication had been established years earlier with the mages of the Circle Temples in the far West. A Tortallan and Carthaki delegation had left Port Caynn nearly eight years ago, when Kel was still a squire, to meet with the nobility of Emelan, and now their own delegation would return the favour. 

Shifting a little in the saddle, she allowed her eyes to scan the assembled nobles waiting on the exposed harbour for the ship to finally dock. As the commander of the guard sent to escort Prince Roald to Port Cayn and safely see the ambassadors back to Corus, she was prominently placed at the front of the procession, mounted beside the prince himself, who looked as stiff and uncomfortable as she felt. The ship seemed to be taking a very long time to dock. Many of her friends had fared better. Lady Alanna, the king’s champion, had been excused from the duty of staring out at the harbour on the basis that her violent seasickness would cause the delegation embarrassment. She was off talking to a flower seller Kel was reasonably certain worked for her husband. 

Kel’s best friend Neal had also found himself with pleasanter duties, being in charge of the safety of Roald’s princess, Shinkokami, and of his own wife, the Lady Yukimi. They and the rest of the princess’s ladies were back in the shady pavilion further inland, waiting to formally greet the delegation with music, food and comfort after their long voyage. Shinko – as Kel was permitted to call the princess who had been her friend in childhood – would have joined her husband on the harbour, but had been overruled. Seven months pregnant, it was decreed by everyone from the Queen to Duke Baird, the chief healer at the palace, that she would be better off comfortably seated and attended by her ladies. Kel locked a sigh beneath still lips. Growing up in the Yamani court, she had learned at an early age to mask her emotions behind a bland mask, but she couldn’t quell the pang of envy at the thought of her friend’s duty – she would much rather be protecting the ladies than waiting out for the small boat to finally come ashore.

Beneath her, her mare Hoshi snorted a little, and Kel forced herself to be still. She looked sideways at the prince.

“Is it always like this?” she asked, smiling slightly to let him know she wasn’t really complaining. Roald returned her smile, eyes skimming back to the harbour.

“I’m afraid so,” he told her. “Shinkokami’s ship took nearly two hours to dock when she arrived – the current was against them.”

Kel nodded her understanding. It wasn’t unheard of for ships – even those with experienced captains – to flounder within sight of land. Those carrying diplomats and royalty had to be especially careful to ensure the ship didn’t break apart at the last. 

“I suppose their majesties sent you in their place to prepare you for royal duties,” she said neutrally. Roald pulled a face. 

“That must have been their reasoning,” he responded, and Kel restrained a smile. King Jonathan of Conte and his queen Thayet were the most active monarchs she had ever heard of – they had no reason to defer this tedious assignment to the prince beyond finding it distasteful. 

“I’ve heard the Lady Sandrilene is a powerful mage,” she told him, leaning forward on her saddle horn. On her other side, Lord Padraig HaMinch, the royal training master, snorted.

“A stitch witch,” he said, a little scornfully. “She’ll be nothing to our Tortallan mages.”

Kel thought of Lalassa, quietly sewing on long winter evenings, and privately disagreed. Practically everything of use involved stitching – even some weapons. It seemed to Kel that a woman who could control fabric and thread might be a formidable force in her own right. 

Before she could voice her point, however, a flurry of gasps moved around the royal party. Looking up, she gaped as what looked like a graceful glass bird soared overheard, rippling in the sunlight. Circling once, twice, it made a gentle descent, landing on Lady Alanna's shoulder. The lady knight looked suitably shocked and awed by the creature. Catching Kel's eye, she made her way back towards the guard, perching the glass creation like a falcon on one wrist.

"An Immortal?" Kel asked, smothering a smile as it attempted to nibble one of Alanna's ear drops. Up close, it was clearly dragon shaped, with long, slender claws and a graceful muzzle.

"Not like any I've seen," Roald dismounted to have a closer look. Instantly, the creature made a grab for his signet ring. Kel was struck by an idea. 

“Fianola,” she turned to the 18-year-old girl who served as her squire. “Run to the dress shop on the quay and fetch a few of those miniature diamonds they work into dresses. I think I know what our new friend likes to eat.” 

She handed the girl a leather pouch filled with gold coins and watched her scamper off through the ranks of Roald’s guard.

Alanna trailed one gloved finger down the dragon’s spine, smiling as it let out a purr which sounded like a ringing bell. 

“She reminds me a little of Bones,” she said softly.

“She?” Roald asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. 

“No offence, your highness, but I don’t know any male this graceful,” the dragon let out another happy chime, as though she understood Alanna’s intent, if not her words. Alanna grinned at her. “Or so vain.”

The dragon fluttered up to Hoshi’s saddle horn and bent her elegant head towards the sparrows clutching the mare’s mane. Kel smiled – it looked very much like they were talking to one another.

At last, Fionola pushed back through the guard clutching Kel’s purse and a delicate paper pouch. She gave Alanna a wide, respectful birth as she always did and handed her items back to Kel. 

“The dressmaker was a friend of Lalassa’s,” she told her knight mistress. “She put in a few extras for you.”

Kel opened the packet to find a handful of tiny diamonds, seed pearls and some minute gold flakes. The nobles watched in fascination as the dragon nimbly picked her way through each delicacy in turn before belching out a large swirl of glass fire. Alanna picked up the frozen flame, complete with swirls of diamond, pearls and swirls of gold, and handed it to Kel.

“That’ll pay for itself a dozen times over I should think,” the older woman said, awestruck. She turned to the dragon and spoke to her as though she could understand. “These mages are already worth the visit, for bringing you along. Perhaps you should go back to the ship in case they worry?”

The dragon preened under the praise, rubbing her head along Alanna’s scarred hand like a kitten, before stretching gracefully and taking to the sky once more. Kel watched her go. 

“If the Emelanese have more surprises like her up their sleeve, this’ll be a very interesting few months,” she said. Alanna and Roald both made noises of agreement. 

_

Daja lounged on the gang rail, waiting for land to come into view. It was strange to remember that she had once lived on a trader ship much like this one. When her family ship had sunk, however, she had been declared Trangshi, or outcast from the trader people. Returning to sea like this always made her remember that long-forgotten home.

The difference was that now she had a new family. Her foster brother and sisters, Sandry, Tris and Briar, were all below deck "enjoying the last freedom we'll have in a whole cursed season", as Briar had put it. None of the four remembered their trip to Namorn with fondness.

 _This will be different_ , Sandry's voice sounded in her mind. A decade ago, when the four had been trapped in an earthquake, Sandry had spun their magics together to keep them alive. Ever since, they could hear into each other's minds. It was a useful skill, which served them well many times. _King Jonathan is not my cousin, the Gods be praised._

 _Duke Vedris didn't think we had anything to fear_ , Briar put in a little more hesitantly. He trusted Vedris as he would never trust other rulers. _And it's not like we're here to make nice with nobility. I just want to see the university. Leave all the bag-stuff to Sandry._

 _So kind, Sandry thought back sarcastically_. Daja bit her lip to keep from smiling. When the four had first reunited after years apart, it was all they could do to keep from yelling at each other over every little thing. Now they had re-established their bond properly, but it was still fun to watch Briar wind up their sisters.

 _We’re starting to moor_ , Tris thought to them. _I just spoke to the captain. Daja, can you see Chime?_

 _She's flying back now_. The glass dragon Tris's student had accidentally created when his magic had gotten away from him settled on the rail by Daja, who stroked her spine idly.

"Someone's been feeding you," she noted the little flecks of gold powder visible in the dragon's transparent stomach. "Perhaps these Tortallans aren't so bad after all."

Chime chirped in agreement and set off to find Tris.

In time, Sandry appeared next to her on the rail. Daja looked sideways at the other girl and smiled. Always elegant, Sandry looked especially lovely in a gauzy gown of her favourite periwinkle blue. Although it was a week until Snow Moon back home, it was early summer in the East, but not a stitch of Sandry’s clothing would dare to pick up a stain from the unseasonal heat. 

“It’s been a while since you were last able to travel,” she said, hesitantly. As teenagers, she, Briar and Tris had travelled with their respective teachers, leaving Sandry alone in Emelan. Though they rarely spoke of it, Daja sometimes got the impression that Sandry was still hurt by being left behind. 

“I never feel right leaving uncle,” the noble girl responded seriously. “If I hadn’t been there last time…”

Daja lay a hand on her sister’s.

“Vedris is stronger now,” she said in trader talk. As young children, she and Sandry had bonded over trader culture, Sandry having been raised by a trader maid. Now, it was a comfort to the adult women to remember their early bond. “He has Yazmin to look after him, and an army of healers.”

“I know that,” Sandry sighed. “I’ll still be glad when we’re heading home.”

Daja had to smile.

“We’ve haven’t even arrived and you’re looking forward to leaving,” she teased. “Maybe you should enjoy travelling when nobody’s trying to kill or marry you for a change.”

“That does seem nice,” Sandry acknowledged. “The Tortallans I've met certainly seem pleasant enough.”

“There you go,” Daja said sensibly. “A summer and winter in a country nobody even knew existed until a few years ago, and then we’ll all go home. Nothing to worry about.”

“And if there is,” Briar had come up to shore next to them, “the four of us will handle it. We always have.”

Sandry looked between them and smiled. 

_Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that_ , Tris thought irritably along their connection.


	2. Welcome

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very mild spoilers for Tortall: A Spy's Guide. Like, it's a spoiler from page one.

Kel waited, inutterably bored, as the Emelan delegation finally moored and made their way to be introduced to the prince. The herald made a long speech explaining the name and rank of just about everyone in Roald’s party, speaking into a black shell which glowed softly and echoed back his words in a strange language she assumed was the common tongue of Kurchall. Kel thanked her Yamani upbringing when she was able to restrain a scowl as the herald introduced her by her absurd nickname. She passionately hoped that none of the embassy would take it to heart and start addressing her as Protector of the Small. At last, the foreigners lined up and began to approach the prince.

“The Lady mage Sandrilene Fa Toren,” the herald announced. “Heir Apparent to the Duchy of Emelan. The mage Briar Moss. The mage Trisana Chandler. The mage Daja Kisoubo.”

She watched as a lovely young noble woman in a flared blue gown stepped forward, flanked by a handsome, dark skinned young man in green velvet, a plump, red haired girl in navy and a black woman almost as tall as Kel in breeches and a deep red shirt. Kel knew nothing whatsoever about fashion, but years of living with Lalassa told her that these mages were unusually well dressed. They made their bows together, with no attention to rank as the prince made polite words at them. Introductions made, Roald was able to greet the Tortallan diplomats who were returning from their own lengthy trip to Emelan. Kel didn’t know the fifty-year-old Erlon of Seabeth and Seajen, or his plump little wife, but Roald greeted them as old friends as they left the ship. 

Finally, the whole party could make its way to the princess’s pavilion for the welcome luncheon. Remembering her own long voyage from the Yamani Isles years earlier, Kel was willing to bet that the travellers would have preferred hot baths and a day or two to rest, but the niceties had to be observed. That the Duke of Emelan was willing to send his heir on this mission told her that he and Jon intended to open up very friendly relations. 

Wordlessly, she signalled her guard – thirty men and women made up of knights, riders and men of the King’s Own she’d selected to serve as the official guard for the embassy over the next few months – to circle back to the pavilion and assume their posts. Only then did Kel wheel her mount and ride just behind Roald as he led the Tortallan procession.

She didn’t know Alanna had come up beside her until the older woman touched her elbow. Kel had to bend to listen – ahorse she was far taller than the Lioness.  
“Don’t get too comfortable,” the lady knight warned her, looking amused, “this is only going to get duller. We’ve many more months to go, Lady Knight.”

Kel kept her face smooth, but her heart sank. She’d felt honoured two months ago when Gareth of Naxen had approached her to let her know she’d been chosen to lead the new Prince’s Guard for at least the next six months, but royal privilege always came with a cost, as Raoul had so often tried to warn her. Her former knight master, the commander of the King’s Own, was a ferocious warrior and excellent commander, but had often clashed with the king over dancing attendance at courtly functions instead of being in the field where he was needed. Kel was not Lord Raoul, and would certainly never question her orders like he did, but her heart sank at the prospect of six more months of state functions and entertainments for their foreign guests. 

At least the luncheon was small, if formal. Roald and Shinkokami sat at the head table, with the visiting mages, Sir Erlon and his wife, and Alanna and her husband and new baby with them in places of honour. Neal sat with Yuki, Kel’s parents, Lindhall Reed and Harailt of Aili around a lesser table, where they were already deep in conversation. Kel didn’t envy them – she had taken her lunch before heading out to the harbour and infinitely preferred to be with the guard. 

“I’d rather meet be greeted by their Majesties, if it were me,” Wolsett, Kel’s second, commented as they took up their posts around the pavilion. When Kel frowned, he explained. “I like their Highnesses well enough, but even my Lord Raoul says they’re stiff around strangers.”

Glancing back up, Kel saw instantly that he was right. Ambassador Erlon had left for Emelan months before Shinko had arrived in Tortall, and looked surprised and uncomfortable with Yamani influenced food, clothing and décor. Alanna, in a gesture of civility Kel had never thought possible of the former Champion, was in conversation with the ambassador’s wife, clearly explaining the influence of Shinkokami’s style on court fashion – the Lioness herself wore a violet gown with a wrapped bodice, secured with a wide sash like an obi. The lady Sandrilene looked politely interested in the discussion, but her comrades were clearly lost.

“I wonder how much of the common tongue they speak?” she mused. “Surely they’d have been given lessons before making the journey, but still…”

“We’ve all been speaking Tortallan exclusively for months now, my lady,” Kel turned to see a lightly muscled man a few years older than she approaching. From the introductions on the harbour, she recognised him as Ferras Hayblown – the commander of the ambassador’s small guard. “You all speak a little faster than we’re used to, but we have the shape of your language.”

Kel nodded.

“The princess is also a foreigner here,” she explained, taking care to speak a little slower than usual and face him directly. “Our language is very difficult to learn for people from the Yamani Islands, so I’m sure she’ll be mindful of the ambassadors.”

“You all seem very polite here,” Ferras agreed cheerfully. “It’s Lady Keladry, isn’t it?”

She bowed. 

“Commander Hayblown,” she said politely, “might I introduce my second in command, Sergeant Wolsett.”

“Good to meet you both,” he said. “I was wondering if I could have a quick tour of the pavilion and know the exit points in case of danger.”

“Of course,” she told him. “I’ll show you around. Wolsett, you have the command.”

A sergeant with the King’s Own, Wolsett had served under Kel before on several occasions. Now, he bowed and took over while she led Hayblown around the pavilion, pointing out exit points to him.

“We were surprised when we learned from our vision mages that Duke Vedris sent so few men to guard his heir,” she confessed, when he positioned his scant men in strategic locations. Wayblown smiled crookedly. “I had a mind to loan you fifteen of my own people for when we reach the capital, to bolster the guard.”

Wayblown smiled crookedly. 

“I’d be grateful for that, my Lady,” he said, “but truthfully, those four don’t need much guarding.”

He inclined his head towards the mages on the dais. Kel frowned. 

“One of my teachers in knight training was the most powerful mage in Tortall,” she said seriously. “He explained to us that even the strongest mage can be taken down if she, or he, is sufficiently distracted. I’ve killed mages myself, when it was needful.”

“Which is why I’d be grateful for the extra men,” Wayblown agreed easily, “but truly, I doubt your people have seen anything like these four before.”

-

Raised for much of her childhood by Lark and Rosethorn, Sandry had learned early in life never to waste food, but the delicacies set out for her that afternoon tied her stomach in knots. The Tortallans had offered a large spread of salad greens, freshly dressed fish and cured meats, hot bread, cheeses and olives. It was reassuringly familiar food – she assumed that Vedris had had mages contact those in Tortall to tell them about Emelanese cooking – but she couldn’t bring herself to eat more than a few bites. Like her, Tris limited her meal to simple bread and water, and looked distinctly green after stepping off the ship for the first time in months. Briar and Daja, on the other hand, were faring better, tucking into the meal with visible gratitude. Determined not to appear rude to her hosts, she kept the conversation flowing regardless. 

“Ambassador Erlon told us about the Immortals returning to the Eastern lands,” she said, sipping a cup of water flavoured with mint. “Do you still have many in Tortall?”

“More than ever,” prince Roald replied. “Lady Keladry accidentally adopted a baby griffin a few years ago, though those of us with sense wouldn’t go near it.”

“Do their feathers really have magical properties?” Tris asked, seeming interested in the conversation for the first time. “We’ve heard some mixed accounts at home.”

“Ask Kel, if you get the chance,” Lady Alanna replied. “She was gifted a bag of feathers by the little monster’s parents for looking after it. I don’t think she’s missed a shot with one of her griffin-fletched arrows since.”

“I’d love to see one,” Sandry said, glancing at the printed unicorns on the princess’s gown. “From a safe distance, perhaps.”

“There are other, friendlier immortals at the palace,” the princess assured her. “Tkaa the basilisk has recently returned from the Copper Isles and has expressed interest in meeting you all.”

“Basilisks are terrible gossips,” Baron George explained, smiling. He had friendly, dancing hazel eyes which reminded Sandry irresistably of Briar. “He’ll want you to talk yourselves silly with information about your homeland.”

“That’s what we’re here to do,” Briar said easily, reaching out for another warm roll. “Be a bit silly to complain about it now we’re here.”

“Aha,” said Alanna softly, looking up. “Here’s a familiar sight.”

Chime piped softly above them, drawing approving mutters from the assembled guests. Gracefully, she fluttered down onto the table beside the lady knight and inspected the baby in her lap. The child, three months old with her mother’s wide, violet eyes, gazed back at the dragon curiously, but Chime had no interest in a young human who could offer no delicacies or compliments. Instead, she thrust her head into Alanna’s hand, clearly expecting something tasty.

“Mithros,” George said softly, gazing at the dragon in wonder. “I’ve never seen anything like her. She’s made of glass.”

Tris nodded. 

“A student of mine made her by accident a few years ago,” she explained. “He had a bad combination of glass and lightning magic.”

“Some accident,” Alanna smiled, offering the dragon a handful of gold dust, which she ate delicately. “I swear, she knew I’d gone to get more to feed her.”

“You’ll spoil her,” Sandry said, a little amused. Chime had clearly decided that the knight was her friend. Alanna just grinned. 

“I love spoiling other people’s pets,” she admitted. “I’m not the one who’ll have to live with them, after all.”

In her lap, baby Dove started whimpering, then crying. Alanna bounced her gently. 

“Whoops,” she said fondly. “That’s not very polite at the dinner table, is it? If you’ll excuse me, your Highnesses?”

Roald and Shinkokami nodded graciously, and Alanna disappeared with the baby.

“I can’t believe she gave up the position of Champion,” Roesa – ambassador Erlon’s wife – said as she left with the child. “I never thought His Majesty would accept her resignation.”

“She’s been threatening to hand in her notice for the better part of a decade,” said George with easy good humour. “Said she’d soon need winches to lift her arms over her head. The baby’s what did it – neither of us expected another at our time of life.”

“You have other children?” Daja asked politely.

“Three, all grown,” he told her. “Our boys both live in the capital – I’m sure you’ll meet them at one party or another.”

At last, servants came to clear away the plates, and Roald nodded to the female knight who had rode by him at the harbour. 

“Lady Sandrilene, Briar, Daja, Trisana, might I introduce Lady Keladry of Mindelan,” the knight bowed to them. She was much younger than Alanna – probably of an age with the prince and princess, and was one of the tallest women Sandry had ever seen. 

“At your service,” the knight said politely. “My lady, I command the guard for the prince and princess. I’ve spoken with your own captain and offered him fifteen of my people to add to your guard while you’re here.”

Sandry thanked her politely, noticing the knowing smirk on Briar’s face. 

_He always does this,_ she thought irritably. _I can never get him to see the advantage of masking how powerful we really are._

“We have a place for you prepared at the Magistrate’s House,” Keladry continued. “If you’re ready, I would be happy to escort you there.”

“That would be grand,” said Sandry, relieved. She longed for a bath and long nap after their voyage. Keladry smiled and led the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Low key, is anyone else kind of pumped for Alanna and George having another baby? In my head, they name the child Dove, officially after the new queen of the Copper Isles, but both of them are thinking of the Dancing Dove during the naming ceremony.


	3. Port Caynn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tris picks up a new student while Daja has an interesting conversation.

To Tris’s intense relief, the prince and princess, along with their guards and attendants, were to spend the next two days at the house of the Lord Provost, while she and her siblings had been given the use of the Magistrate’s House. The magistrate himself was a small, self-important man who spoke to Sandry in a loud, slow voice, as though he was convinced she would only understand him if he bellowed. To the others, he said nothing, shouted or otherwise. Word had evidently reached him that Sandry’s relations were commoners. 

Tris didn’t mind in the slightest, and was only too happy to leave her sister to enjoy the old man’s company at supper while she herself bathed and relaxed in her comfortable little upstairs room. The majority of their luggage had been sent ahead to the town house in Corus, but she’d had a small bag with her night things and a book brought to the Magistrate’s house, so she was able to spend the evening reading until her eyes grew heavy. The second her head touched the pillow, she dropped into a dreamless sleep. 

It was the stillness which woke her, hours later. Daja had warned her that she would feel unbalanced and seasick for days after leaving the ship, but she was still surprised when her bed seemed to sway and rock beneath her. Sitting up queasily, she blinked around the small room. In the pale morning light, it looked a little bigger than it had the evening before, and she hobbled over to the wash stand to splash cool water over her face with a grimace. Though she was still feeling rocky and unhinged, she forced herself to take a tailor’s seat in the middle of the room to meditate while she had time to herself. 

Stretching her neck, she began the process of looking for the stillness inside herself which would hold shape regardless of what went on outside of herself. Diving deep into her magic, she felt the power around her – the flaxen thread, gossamer thin, that was Sandry’s; the low, red fire which was Daja’s and Briar’s growing green tendrils. Beyond that, she sank into the copper flame that lived within the horses outside and the deep blue water of the magistrate’s truth teller. By the time she pulled back and into herself, the sun had fully risen and she stood with it. 

Vedris had sent Sandry and her companions with a compliment of servants and guards, but Tris intended to make it clear from the beginning that she would need the company of neither to visit the market as she liked. She couldn’t in all politeness buy food while staying with the magistrate, but she could still get a feel for the town by exploring the already crowded stalls. A merchant’s daughter through and through, Tris maintained to her siblings that the best way to get a sense of a new place was to see what the trade was like. The price of staple goods, the availability of luxuries, how many people were out buying, how happy the vendors seemed – everything told a story. 

According to the ambassador, Port Caynn was Tortall’s largest city, but the magistrate lived on the waterfront, just a ten-minute walk away from the sprawling market, so Tris took her time strolling through the strong sun. On the beach, enterprising merchants were setting up stalls, donkey rides and puppet shows in anticipation of leisure seekers later in the day, and food vendors crammed into every inch of free space along the pier, interspersed with the fortune tellers who hadn’t been able to afford market stalls. Tris ignored them all, determined to get to the main bazaar, where hundreds of brightly canvassed stands were being set up.  
Those which sold bread, fruit and vegetables, fish, meat, cheese and other staples were open already, taking up a third of the market. The rest was dominated by other goods – plants, herbs, medicines, cheap perfumes, cloths and magic. Two guards stood entrance to a circular building behind the market which Tris supposed must contain rare or expensive items. She was happy to stick to the ordinary goods today. Since graduating from Lightsbridge six months ago, she was officially entitled to work as an ordinary mage, making and selling protection charms and mild weather kits, and was curious to compare her small trade to those of the Tortallan mages. It was to the mage stalls, therefore, that she gravitated first, noting with interest the dazzlingly bright array of charms on display. One stall sold magic for women: to ward off pregnancy, abate monthly bleeding, increase fertility, smooth the women’s changes later in life and potions to ease cramps. She spent a long time examining the goods on a table run by a weather mage. Most of it was small magic, competent and unambitious, such as a bronze glass used to see storms, or a vein for captains to use to summon breezes on becalmed seas. 

One item caught her eye, and she picked up a circle of glass about the size of her palm, encased in an elaborately wrought silver frame. A series of slim filters opened out to the side, some to magnify or add coloured filters or to magically enhance what the mage could see in minute detail. The label simply read: _For Scrying_. 

“How does it work?” she asked the man running the stall. He was a tall, dark skinned man with highly arched eyebrows which lent him a bewildered expression. 

“It’s for them mages as prefers to work with heights,” he told her. “Them as can sniff out gossip on the wind.”

“Scrying on the wind?” Tris made herself keep her voice light, as though the prospect sounded ridiculous to her. 

“It ain’t common,” he acknowledged, “but there’s those who have the knowing of such things. The King, for one, if the gossips tell it true.”

“How does the glass help?” she asked, as though she thought it highly doubtful it was worth anything.

“Ah, that’s a specialism of a friend of mine,” the mage grinned, “he has a good way with glass, does Tunair. He layers it to filter out images and colours, so’s a mage can look at the wind and pick out a certain image and stay with it.”

Tris looked at the magic encased within the glass, seeing it layered thin and delicate, a dozen times over. She had never seen work so minutely detailed, outside of that produced by her siblings.

“How much?” she asked casually. The price was enough to make her eyes water, but it wasn’t overvalued. Tris haggled the merchant down a little by feigning disinterest and at one point starting to walk away, until the glass was closer to what she could afford. The money she’d made in the months before starting the voyage, combined with the purse Vedris had insisted she take as Emelan’s official ambassador, allowed her to buy the glass and stow it in a velvet pouch in her belt. 

She had moved on to looking at a stall selling medicinal herbs when she felt a light pressure at her side and turned in time to see a small figure sprinting away from her, velvet pouch in hand. She wasted no time, but sent a curled thread of magic, woven like Sandry’s around the thief’s wrist and tethered it to her own power. She wasn’t about to go tearing after a thief – a child no less – through a crowded market place, but she also didn’t intend to lose one of the costliest items she had ever bought. Cautiously, she followed the link of magic to the side of a building, where it jerked abruptly up. Clearly, the child had found a way to hop up to the roof of the building, thinking Tris could never follow. Using magic to ascend the wall was far showier than Tris would like, so instead she found footholds in a nearby trellis and climbed up laboriously. There, it was easy enough to jump between rooftops using air to cushion her and clear the narrow gaps comfortably. 

The child had a head start, but Tris was able to feel along their connection for a good ten minutes before it cut out abruptly. She paused, frowning. Only someone who could see magic, a rare enough skill even among mages, could have severed that connection. Bracing herself on the edge of a building, she pulled away her coloured glasses and let images rain over her. A woman wrestling with a rickety wheelbarrow, a watchman lazing in the shadows, a slim figure sweeping up the princess’s pavilion from the luncheon the day before, a small dark child handing a pouch to a skinny old man. Tris did her best to focus on that image, irritated beyond belief that the scrying glass which might have helped her was what the child had chosen to steal, and took in the surroundings. The sea was on the right of their hiding place, suggesting that they were along the pier, and she caught a glimpse of donkeys in the background. Quietly, she stole back along the rooftops to track them down, letting the wind carry clues towards her as she moved. 

_Getting up to this a bit early, ain’t you?_ Briar asked cheerfully. In her magical vision, the man raised a hand to slap the child, a girl, she realised, across the cheek. 

“Stole from a mage,” he was saying angrily, “of all the stupid things to do-”

 _That brute!_ Sandry thought angrily. _How dare he attack a child like that?_

 _He won’t for much longer_ , Tris assured her, then cut off her siblings firmly. She needed to focus now.

When she found the pair in a grimy alley on the pier, she dropped silently to the ground and used a gust of wind to blow back the man before he could hit the girl again. As he flew backwards, he dropped the pouch, and the child urchin snatched it up, lightning fast. 

“How’d ye find me?” she demanded, scowling at Tris. She was short and skinny, with a mess of dirty black hair, light brown skin and pale grey eyes which glared in Tris’s direction. “I pulled off yer magic bracelet, din’t I?”

“That was you?” Tris asked, surprised. “You can see magic?”

“Enough to see you din’t have any,” the girl said rudely. “I checked you afore I snatched up your glass.”

Tris thought about that, then decided to answer honestly. 

“I have a different type of magic to what you’re used to,” she said. “Mine lies with the weather, not inside of myself. I need that glass back.”

The girl clutched it protectively. On the wall, the old man struggled and cursed. Tris ignored him; she had a very low opinion of someone who would have a child do his stealing for him. 

“There ain’t mages who pull magic from the wind,” she said doubtfully. “I been watching the mage stalls for years now.”

Tris tried to assess the girl’s age. At a glance, she looked no older than six or seven, but Tris suspected that she might be older than that and simply underfed.

“We’re rare,” Tris told her. “How do you think I’m pinning your friend to the wall?”

The girl turned to scowl at the man.

“Walbur’s no friend o’ mine,” she objected. “He lets me sleep in his hay loft and takes half of what I earn in payment. He’d take it all if he wasn’t afraid of me.”

“Why is he afraid of you?”

The girl’s scowl only deepened. 

“She’s got a demon in her, that one,” Walbur gasped. “I was chastising her for robbing you, mistress. Let me go and I’ll see she gets a good beating when you’re gone.”

Tris let the wind drop, pulling up a bubble of air around the three of them so that nobody would run away. 

“What makes you say demon?” she asked coldly. She’d gotten enough of that herself as a child to know that children termed evil or demonic might simply have an unusual type of magic.

“Mistress, she ain’t natural,” Walbur objected. “I been looking after her these three years since her da died, and I tell you she’s got a monster in her. She speaks to dead men and hears voices from birds.”

She didn’t know what the dead men comment was about, but she knew all about hearing voices. Tris turned to the girl. 

“Have you a name?” she asked, trying to keep her voice stern. 

“He calls me Flea,” the girl said flatly. Tris shook her head. 

“Never mind what he calls you – it was a name I asked for.” 

The girl lightened her lips and glared. Tris sighed. 

“Have you had any training for your magic?”

“Mistress, it ain’t magic,” Walbur began. “The mage sniffer came round a year ago-”

Tris sent a gust of wind in his direction to carry away his voice, attention on the child.

“No,” she admitted. “It’s not magic though, not like what you can do. I can see good, is all. And hear some things too.”

“I hear voices on the wind,” Tris told her. “I know how to control it. Do you want me to teach you?”

The question was for the sake of politeness. In truth, Tris knew she was duty bound to teach any mages she discovered, as she’d done several times in the past with Kethlun, Glaki and Zhegorz. The girl took a step back. 

“I ain’t going off Oinomi-knows-where with a mad witch who says she hears voices,” she said flatly. Tris fought the urge to laugh. 

“Oinomi?” she asked. 

“Don’t you know anything?” the girl asked scornfully. “Oinomi Wavewalker’s the Goddess of the seas. Her who has the temple on the King’s Way.”

“I’m new here,” Tris told her, “I’m with the delegation from Emelan.”

She didn’t need to explain what that meant – a girl as smart as this one would keep an ear to the ground. 

Those disconcertingly pale eyes narrowed at her suspiciously.

“That explains your accent,” she said rudely. “Was you riding with Sir Nealan yesterday?”

“I met him,” Tris said, trying to remember the tall mage who’d sat on one of the lesser tables the day before. “Tall, green eyes? Seems a little dramatic?”

“That’s him,” the girl relaxed. “Give me a silver noble two months ago to run a message for ‘im, and cured old Remmy of her lung rot. He’s alright, for a noble.”

“Well, I’ll be riding with him back to Corus soon,” Tris told her. It occurred to her that, like the market mage, the urchin would think less of her if she seemed too eager. “I can see you’re happy with Mister Walbur, then. If you do change your mind, I’ll be riding out from Port Caynn with the prince’s party the day after tomorrow-”

“What, you’re just gonna go?” the girl asked, clearly startled. Tris raised her eyebrows. 

“I wasn’t about to kidnap you,” she pointed out drily. “You seem capable enough – if you want schooling, I can help. If not…” she nodded to Walbur. She had no intention of leaving the girl with the vicious old man, and would appeal to the magistrate to have her taken in by a mage if she adamantly refused to work with Tris, but there was no reason to tell her that. Dropping the bubble, she thought a prayer and began to walk away. She’d gone about fifteen feet when the sound of footsteps caught her up. 

“I should give you this back,” she told Tris, handing her the velvet pouch. “If you’re gonna teach me.”

“If I’m going to teach you,” Tris said, looking down at the girl, “I’ll need to know your name. I won’t call my pupil Flea, unless that’s a Tortallan naming custom I’ve yet to learn about.”

“Ain’t no custom,” the girl said matter-of-factly. “Just what Walbur calls me. It’s Ashane, but Da used to call me Ash.”

“Well, Ash,” she said, “my name’s Trisana Chandler, but you may call me Tris.”

-

Daja relaxed into her time at Port Caynn. A bustling port town, she felt as comfortable there as any trader who had grown up on a ship, and unlike her siblings had few issues adjusting to being back on land. The morning after they arrived in Tortall, she showed herself around the town, buying a plate of lentil fritters from a vendor to nibble on as she meandered around the seafront. She didn’t pay so much as a second glance to the fortune tellers on the harbour, having too much experience with the charlatans who plied their trade on the gullible back home, but instead followed the pull of her magic towards the large forge in the merchant’s district.

It was a busy operation, she saw as soon as she stepped up to it. A master with a half a dozen jour-neymen and three times as many apprentices took command of the forge, bellowing orders for eve-rything from nails and hinges to an elaborately worked iron door destined for a temple. The master, a tall, heavily muscled man with a mane of blond hair tied into a horsetail, looked up sharply when she entered and crossed over to her. 

“This isn’t an open show,” he said. His accent was so unlike those she was used to that it took a moment to decipher his words. “We’ve a busy operation here, mistress, and it can be dangerous for outsiders.”

“I’m a smith,” she told him, noting that all the workers in the forge were men. Well, ambassador Erlon had warned them that women belonged mostly in the home in Tortall. “I didn’t mean to in-terrupt you, but I’m always curious to see how other forges operate in the places I visit.”

The master sized her up. Woman or not, Daja was as muscled as any of his journeymen. 

“Tain’t decent,” he said at last, spitting to his side. “Forge work is hot, often as not we strip down to nought but our aprons when we work.”

Daja leaned thoughtfully on her staff. She wasn’t here to start any fights. 

“Where I’m used to working, we spend more time focussing on our craft than one another’s bodies,” she said mildly. 

He shook his head again, scowling. He had magic himself, strong enough for Daja to see even when he wasn’t working, and that power lay low in every inch of iron in the forge, red and smoul-dering. Before he could dismiss her again, his eyes landed on her open palm, with its cap of living metal.

“Tain’t right,” he said again. “Not for a young woman. Where you from, anyway?”

“I’m one of the ambassadors from Emelan,” she told him. That straightened him up, and he looked more alarmed than ever.

“Beg pardon, my lady,” he said. “But this forge ain’t no place for you. I weren’t lying when I said it was dangerous here, and if you was to come to harm in my shop…”

She knew a lost cause when she saw one and gave up on trying to talk him round. The next forge she tried gave her the same response, and an ironmonger in the lower city. Frustrated and irate – she had a reputation as one of the finest smiths in the lands around the Pebbled Sea – Daja was about to return to the magistrate’s house for lunch when she caught sight of a familiar face. A mage, tall and thin in well-made green robes beckoned to her and she walked over to him. 

“It’s Mistress Kisubo, isn’t it?” the man asked. 

“Just Daja,” she told him. 

“Lindhall Reed,” he gave a light bow. “I was at the reception yesterday, though I’d understand if you didn’t remember.”

She smiled. 

“There were a lot of introductions,” she acknowledged. “I believe the prince mentioned you work at the university?”

“That’s right,” he said. “I study the remains of plants and animals for thousands of years ago.”

She considered that, puzzled. 

“How do they survive for thousands of years?” 

“I’ll show you, if you want to visit the university during your time here.”

“It’s one of the reasons we came,” she told him. “Aside from my sister’s role in opening trade ne-gotiations with the king, we’re here as part of a cultural exchange.”

“Excellent,” he beamed. “I understand your own magic lies with metalworking?”

“That’s right,” Daja said. “I was actually trying to scout out some of the larger forges while I’m here – I’ve heard Port Caynn has some of the finest.”

“Trying?”

Daja smiled crookedly. 

“I’ve been politely turned away a few times now.”

Lindhall didn’t look surprised. 

“I’m afraid I’m not very familiar with the smithies here,” he confessed, “but I’m certain we could arrange work with you in one of the Corus forges. Raven Armoury is famous for its work with steel, and the palace forge is always hosting famous smiths from around the world.”

“That would be wonderful,” she said, a little disappointed to pass over the opportunity to see the Port Caynn smiths in action. “Are there many smith mages here?”

Lindhall shook his head. 

“There are mages who specialise in placing spells on weaponry and metal,” he told her, “but I’ve never heard of a mage who learned to be a blacksmith as well.”

“There aren’t any ambient mages?” she asked surprised. When he looked confused – she didn’t have a good translation into Tortallan for ‘ambient’ – she explained how her magic was different from most mages’. Lindhall listened to her explanation with a small frown. 

“No, I’ve never heard of anything quite like that,” he said. “Certainly, there are women who use threads as part of their craft, and we have weather mages, but that magic comes from them – not the craft they’re using. Unless…”

“Unless what?”

“Well, there is wild magic,” he said thoughtfully. “It’s very rare, but there is a Wild Mage at the palace. The Wild Mage, you might say. She works with the magic in animals, though she does have her own magic as well.”

“Tris – my sister, the weather witch? – she has ambient and academic magic,” Daja replied. “That’s also rare around the Pebbled Sea, but it isn’t unheard of.”

“This is fascinating,” he murmured. “Would the four of you be willing to speak at a mage’s conference this September? That’s autumn,” he added helpfully. 

“I can’t speak for the others, but I’d be happy to,” she told him. In truth, she could ask along their connection and get their replies in a heartbeat, but they’d all agreed to hide their private connec-tion from the Tortallans. Not even Erlon and his wife knew about their ability to communicate si-lently with one another. “Though I’m not sure how busy we’ll be then,” she amended. 

Lindhall sighed. 

“Yes, I get the impression that His Majesty wants you to be entertained while you’re here,” he said, as though entertainment was a sort of Tortallan torture. “We’ll see how you feel in a few weeks, shall we?”

Daja nodded, and suggested they head back to the magistrate’s house – she was starting to feel very hungry. As they headed off together, deep in conversation about different types of magic, nei-ther noticed a slender figure steal into the space where Lindhall had been standing and pluck up a single, fair hair in gloved hands before dropping it into a small glass phial. 

-

“Gods above,” Briar heard a woman mutter in disgust. He’d been walking along the long hallway to his downstairs room after breakfast when the voice sounded from the servant’s corridor. “These mages have been here all of a morning and are already bringing vermin in from the street. Foreigners.”

He wasn’t sure whether this particular maid didn’t know how well he and his sisters spoke the language, or simply didn’t care. He turned the corner quietly and peered into the corridor where a grubby child – Tris’s latest foundling – was glaring up at a pair of maids.

“Mistress Tris said to give me a bath and a meal,” she said frankly, “not to stand yammering about me as though I was a rat.”

“You aren’t going in any of the tubs we use like that,” the older maid said firmly. “It’ll be a scrub in the horse trough for you, my girl, then a bite of bread and water if you can keep a civil tongue in your head.”

Tris, off in conversation with the magistrate about the law regarding young mages, had been firm about a hot bath and good meal. Briar wasn’t about to stand around and let the servants pull one over on her. He rounded the corner with a cheerful wave

“You must be Copper Curls’s new student,” he said, mimicking Baron George’s accent from the night before. He looked at the girl’s cut lip and bruised cheek and gave a low whistle. “Should I see the other fellow?”

Ash pressed a hand to her cheek and glared at him. 

“The other fellow got scared good and proper by Tris,” she said. “Nobody could beat her.”

“I could have told you that,” he said, “Tris and I grew up together, and she never let me beat her.”

Ash offered him a small smile, and for a moment, her grubby face looked almost sweet. 

“You’re Briar,” she said accusingly. 

“And you’re Ashane,” he said with an elegant bow. He turned to address the maids. “Ladies, if you would be so good to draw a hot bath for my sister’s new pupil – one of the tubs in our rooms will be sufficient if you’re squeamish about her using yours.”

The maid reddened slightly. 

“My lord, I wouldn’t advise it,” she said hastily. “The girl’s straight off the streets. She’s likely to have fleas and Mithros knows what else, and you know what that lot are like for stealing.”

“A bath might help with the first part,” he replied mildly. “I’ve a bar of soap spelled to kill ticks and lice in my room. I’ll bring it along in a moment, along with something for the bruises. She’ll need new clothes, as well. Imagine how much it would shame my sister to have a student look this filthy and poorly treated.”

“I don’t need new clothes,” Ash said, hugging herself protectively. “Mrs Jessop give me these two years back; I don’t want new ones.”

Briar considered that. He had left everything of his life on the streets when Niko had bartered for him out of his cell, but there had been a few oddments he’d have liked to keep. 

“Our other sister’s a thread mage,” he said thoughtfully. “We’ll give you new clothes to wear and see if she can do anything about those.”

The girl scowled at him. 

“Do you lot know anyone who isn’t a weird mage?”

One of the servants looked set to cuff her at that, but Briar had to laugh. 

“I’m afraid not,” he said, “Go have your bath and afterwards I’ll see about a good breakfast.”

He looked at the maids, not trusting them to follow his instructions even now, when a brisk, sensible figure emerged from the servant’s quarters. It was Gudruny, Sandry’s Namornese maids. Sandry would have left Gudruny in Emelan with her two children, but the maid hadn’t stood for it, insisting she accompany her mistress on her latest escapade. Now, she beat a course straight for Ash.

“My Lady explained everything to me,” she said, nodding at the two maids who were looking more bemused than ever. Her Tortallan was weaker than her mistress’s, but she could make herself understood. “Thank you for your help, but I’ll take charge of the girl from here. If you’ll fetch hot water to Lady Sandrilene’s room, I’ll sort out this one there.”

Ash wriggled away, looking peeved. 

“Would you all stop fussing about how dirty I am?” she complained. “Hate to tell you respectable folks, but that’s what happens when you sleep in a barn!”

Grinning, Briar left them to it went to fetch the soap and balm and leave them outside Sandry’s room. Gudruny would ensure the girl was cared for, at least. That done, he looped back to the reception chamber where Tris was in deep conversation with the magistrate and a new-comer. Briar was surprised to see Baron Cooper, lounging back in his chair.

 _Appeared out of nowhere_ , Tris told him silently. _Knew all about what happened in the market – I’ve no idea how._

“Good morning,” Briar said cheerfully, pulling out his medallion as he caught the attention of the magistrate and Baron. “I’ve just seen your student Tris, and I’m impressed. Not even Evvy was that feral when I brought her in.”

“You make a habit of scooping children off the street?” George asked, looking amused. 

“I was scooped off the street, not so long ago,” Briar informed him. Like Briar, Tris had produced her medallion for this conversation, though the accreditation didn’t carry the same weight in Tortall as it did in Emelan. “It’s the first duty of any mages of the Circle temples to ensure that any new mages we discovered receive training. Where there are no suitable teachers, we must do it ourselves. I took on a pupil who was a stone mage a few years back until we could get her back to a temple, and Tris is ever picking up waifs and strays.”

Tris turned to scowl at him. 

“From what Mistress Trisana has described,” the magistrate put in with his reedy voice, looking less happy with his company than ever, “the child has some small amount of the Sight – not the true Gift.”

“That’s why I’m here,” George told Briar, amused. “I’ve some small amount of the Sight myself, and it’s gotten me out of a scrape or two in my time.”

“The Sight?” he looked at Tris, confused. Was there a problem with translation?

“It’s a very weak cousin of the Gift,” the Baron explained. “Some have it stronger than others. I can see magic in other people, most of the time anyway, and I usually know when someone’s lying to me. My twins have it stronger – they can see poisons, read lips, see magic and spells being worked…”

“None of that explains what Ash said about hearing dead men speak,” Tris said, “or hearing voices in birds.”

“It could be wild magic?” the magistrate suggested doubtfully. “The Wild Mage can speak to animals, can’t she?”

“I don’t think so,” George sounded thoughtful. “There’s a story in my family about a woman who could hear the voices of the dead in street vermin and dust spinners. She had the Gift of the Black God.”

The magistrate made a sign on his chest Briar didn’t recognise. 

“There was a famous watchwoman with the same Gift, hundreds of years ago,” he acknowledged. “I always took it to be a children’s story.”

He drummed his fingers on the table thoughtfully, and Briar realised that while he may be unpleasant, the magistrate wasn’t stupid.

“Alright,” he said at last. “The laws of Tortall are similar to your own customs – any young mage child must learn to control his or her magic. If you believe you can teach this chit, you’re legally permitted to take her on.” Here, he began shuffling in his desk, and produced a docket which he handed to Tris. “While she’s your student, you may not put her to work for another unless it’s directly related to her training. Any money she earns, you must set aside for her to act as a dowry when she’s old enough to spend it. Nobody may meddle with her without your permission, and if she gets sick, you are expected to provide and pay for treatment for her. Their Majesties have also decreed that all children be taught to read and write, though we struggle to implement that with the street children with no fixed homes. If she cannot read already, you would be expected to teach her, or find a teacher for her.”

“I would have anyway,” Tris said, taking the papers. “I’ve one more favour to ask of both of you, and that’s for any information you can find about this Gift. I’ve never heard anything like it in Emelan, and my studies were focussed on unusual magics.”

“I’ll conduct some research,” George promised her. “It’ll help when we’re back in Corus and have the university on hand.”

Tris thanked him again and left with Briar to track down her new student.

 _In here,_ Sandry told them along their connection, _Gudruny had her brought to her room in my chambers. She’s just getting a bite to eat now._

They went up together and entered the grand suite of rooms Sandry had been assigned. Thinking of his own little cell by the garden, Briar was amused. The magistrate had obviously wanted to shame him, but he much preferred his pallet on the ground floor to the elaborate chambers Sandry had been issued. Their sister sat in the window box, examining Ash’s discarded rags critically. 

“I’ve killed off the lice,” she said matter-of-factly, “and I can dye these to bring back the colours, but I don’t see what I can do with them aside from use them for rags. They barely fit the girl anymore, and the fabric’s so worn in places, you can see through it.”

“Turn them into something,” Briar suggested. “A cushion, maybe, or a pouch. I had an alphabet made for Evvy when she was learning her letters.”

“A travel bag,” Tris agreed. “She seems very practical to me. Can I see her yet?”

“Oh yes,” Sandry hid a yawn behind one hand. She must have been truly exhausted to betray any sign of weariness, and Briar suspected that she’d struggled to sleep the first night off the ship. “She’s in Gudruny’s room just now, though the door there.”

Entering, they saw that Sandry’s maid had done a marvellous job with the little urchin. In a clean tunic and hose – which must have belonged to Gudruny’s younger son but were still much too large for her – Ash looked clean and almost relaxed. Her hair, damp from her bath, hung halfway down her back in loose black curls and her skin had a gold tint to it now the dirt had been washed away. Her cut lip was healed and the bruise on her cheek far fainter than it had been half an hour ago. She looked up at them over her meal of porridge and honey and stood up fast enough to knock over her chair. 

Gudruny tutted.

“There’s no need to go about like that,” she scolded. “You haven’t skirts yet, so you’d best bow for now when you see your betters, but you don’t need to rush about.”

Ash wrinkled her nose. 

“Why should I bow?” she asked. “They ain’t nobles, just mages.”

“And a girl with any sense would know to treat a mage with respect,” said Gudruny wisely. 

“Tris is my teacher,” said Ash stubbornly. “You don’t bow to teachers. That’s just stupid.”

“Sit down and finish your porridge,” said Tris firmly. “You’ll make a poor student if you faint from hunger in your first lesson.”

“I wouldn’t,” said Ash immediately. “I’ve never fainted in my life.”

In spite of her rudeness, Ash clearly held Tris in some awe, because she obeyed her even while arguing. 

“I’ve spoken to the magistrate,” Tris continued. “He’s agreed that you’ll be put in my charge for the next few months. I can teach you the basics of controlling your power, and refining what you’re able to See. Next spring, I’ll be leaving Tortall to return to my homeland, and it’ll be up to you whether you come with me or stay on with a different teacher. If you do choose to stay, I’ll be duty bound to make sure you’re well cared for before I go.”

Ash considered this, ghostly grey eyes narrowed in thought. 

“You’re leaving Port Caynn soon, ain’t you?” she asked suddenly. Tris nodded. 

“I can find a place for you here if you don’t want to leave.”

“No, I don’t mind going,” she said, chewing her lip, “it’s only… well, I have some things to do before I leave.”

“You have the rest of the day and tomorrow,” Tris told her. “We’ll start your lessons when we reach Corus. I’m coming with you into town, though.”

“Why?” Ash demanded. “That’s stupid!”

Tris caught and held her gaze for a long moment. Ash broke first, looking at the ground.

“If I’m to teach you, I need to know that you’ll follow instruction,” she said. “I’ll explain things to you as much as possible, but you need to start trusting that I have reasons – good reasons – for what I do. Is that clear?”

Ash shrugged and nodded. Briar was impressed. Tris had obviously made a strong impression on the girl. 

“I’ll come with you into Port Caynn because that Walbur character had a very nasty look about him,” Tris went on, “and I wouldn’t put it past him to try and snatch you up before you leave for the capital. I won’t have time to look for you if that happens. I also want to see more of your magic and be there to help if anything gets out of control.”

“I never lose control,” Ash muttered.

“I did,” Tris replied, “before I had proper training. I used to make it rain indoor all the time. My relatives thought I was possessed and refused to keep me.”

Ash blinked rapidly, before her stony face came back. 

“That was probably smart of them,” she grumbled. “You seem possessed to me.”

Briar smiled and left them to it. He had the sense that life would be more interesting with Ash around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it even a Tamora Pierce story if one the main characters isn't adopting wounded animals or rescuing children from bad situations? I think the same rules have to apply for fanfic, personally. 
> 
> To clarify timelines, I see this taking place 5 years after WOTE, and the baby goats are about 24-ish, and roughly 4 years after Lady Knight, making Kel 22. It's hard keeping all the different timelines in my head, so apologies if anything looks anachronistic!


End file.
